


it's just a shot away

by glassedplanets



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Clothed Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glassedplanets/pseuds/glassedplanets
Summary: Shin's got excess energy to burn off. Drifter leads him into their usual song and dance.
Relationships: The Drifter/Shin Malphur
Comments: 10
Kudos: 110





	it's just a shot away

**Author's Note:**

> title technically from gimme shelter since i had it on the brain. thanks again to brodie for reading through this!

He’s been in much worse positions than pinned down on a storage crate by Shin Malphur, and it makes Drifter wonder, distantly, just exactly where his life went so wrong that this really ain’t the worst thing that’s happened to him. Far from it, actually.

Shin had slunk into the Annex with some kinda chip on his shoulder, restless with overflowing Light, itching to start fires, and Drifter’d refused to be tinder. He may yet go up in flames here in the back workroom, crowded up against the wall with Shin between his knees, but at least like this—

...Yeah, there's no "at least" for him to salvage here. Drifter finally frees a hand and grabs Shin by the chin, forcing him still.

“Shin—” They'll fuck, then slink away, then come back together to do it all over again in their usual pattern. Drifter just has to get Shin on track. His jaw clenches in Drifter's hand, skin danger-hot. " _Behave._ "

Shin’s eyes flare with something so much more than heat. Drifter relents on his grip, and interestingly, _interestingly enough_ , Shin keeps still. An improvement, to say the least. He sweeps his thumb over Shin’s lips and they don’t part with ease, but they part, and Drifter knows the game’s tipped in his favor when he feels the press of Shin’s tongue on the pad of his thumb.

“Yeah, there we go,” Drifter murmurs. Shin’s not usually the one who’s cashing in on an oral fixation but he likes it, Drifter thinks as Shin’s eyes slide closed. Oh, does he like it.

"Not what I had in mind," Shin says, biting at the worn calluses on Drifter's palm, but he sounds far from disappointed. Doesn't look like it either, not in the deliberate way he takes Drifter's fingers back in his mouth, and not in the way Drifter can feel how hard he is already.

"Seems like you got it in mind now," Drifter says, pointedly rolling his hips up, and Shin gives him a slow, sharp smile around his fingers. For a while it’s nothing but this, the delicate warning press of Shin’s teeth against his skin, the curl of his tongue, the weight of his hips against Drifter’s, and when Shin moves on to press lips and teeth against his neck, Drifter lets him. They've done their fair share of groping and grinding and fucking, but there's something different to Shin's deliberation here, like Shin wants to take him apart atom by atom in a way he hasn’t done before, and the idea sits somewhere at the back of his tongue, waiting for him to swallow it down. 

He shifts and pulls Shin closer with hands over his hips and then his ass, rumpling his cloak just enough that Shin lets out a quiet huff of annoyance, breath beating warm against Drifter's jaw. Shin rocks against him slow and leisurely, each pull of his hips lining up the hard length of him just so against Drifter. 

It feels indulgent. Lavish. Shin drapes himself over Drifter so they're touching from thighs to shoulders and drowns him in slow, open-mouthed kisses that maybe wouldn’t have been filthy at all if it wasn’t for the way Shin rolls their hips together, and Drifter's starting to suspect it really wasn't a fight Shin that had been spoiling for. The alternative makes an odd shiver crawl down his spine, chased by Shin's fingertips skimming around the back of his neck and dipping under his collar before moving back to his shoulders as Shin lets his body sink down.

He presses a mocking line of kisses against Drifter's robes as he works his way downwards and the heat of his mouth works on Drifter anyways, the open-mouthed pressure of each kiss leaving infuriating goosebumps in its wake. Shin flicks his eyes up when he reaches Drifter's waistband, and Drifter gets a split second to register the bright spark in them before Shin lowers himself down and mouths against him through his pants.

"Shin–" He arches back, hand curling into Shin's already-wrinkled cloak again, and Shin just hums, lips somewhere near the tip of him, and then he's back to it, mouthing along his length, hand squeezing just shy of too harsh, all of it a familiar shade of far too warm.

This is what hell must be, he thinks. Shin hasn't even touched him. His fingers just keep brushing against his waistband, his undershirt, skirting close to skin but never quite reaching, and Drifter thinks he's either going to crawl right out of his skin under the weight of this meticulous attention or he's gonna—

“ _F_ _uck_ ,” Drifter groans, “you tryna make me come in my pants?”

And Shin pauses at that. Looks back up at Drifter. Huffs out a warm, quiet breath.

“Maybe,” he murmurs.

Drifter lets his head drop back. Any witty comeback he had is wiped right back out of his mind at the infuriating pressure of Shin’s hand working over him again through way too much clothing, clever fingers getting too clever for Drifter to handle as Shin shifts a seam to press up against him, thick layers of fabric providing too much friction and not enough at all, and all Drifter can manage is a garbled _fuck_ , _oh fuck_ , and Shin’s other hand digs into his thigh.

"You gonna come like this for me?" Shin asks, fingers back to toying with his waistband. 

"Fuck you," Drifter spits weakly, then Shin presses his whole hand up against the length of him again, and the moan that comes out of his mouth is a lot closer to Shin's name than he'd like.

"Later," Shin says without any of his usual amusement, and heat curls low in Drifter's gut at the promise in his voice. Shin looks up at him again, eyes dark, lips parted, and then finally, _finally_ opens his pants, fingers sliding down to brush his skin, and Drifter is gone at just the touch of Shin's tongue at his crown, orgasm punching the breath out of his lungs before Shin can even properly get his mouth on him.

"You're fuckin' nuts," Drifter says once he's back in his own head. Shin's still between his legs, still flushed, and Drifter drags a thumb over the corner of his mouth, cleaning off some of his mess. 

"And yet you keep comin' back," Shin says simply, and licks the pad of Drifter's thumb before sitting back on an adjacent crate, knees spread in obvious invitation.

"Fuck you," Drifter repeats, exceptionally creative in the wake of something that makes him feel like he's been scraped hollow by the force of Shin's attention, and he kneels before Shin anyways. 

"Yeah?" Shin says, breathless. "Get to it and fuck me, then."

His eyes never leave Drifter's face as Drifter strips open his pants and finally, finally gets a hand on him.

"Next time, hotshot. Said so yourself."

And with that he takes Shin in his mouth with single-minded determination, heat already stirring again in his gut again at the weight of Shin's dick in his mouth, the salt of the precome he's dripping with. Shin ain't gonna last long, judging by the curl of his fists, the Light that sparks up between his fingers, so Drifter settles in to enjoy what he'll get.

Shin's real stupid for it by this point, every breath a quiet noise, and Drifter's blindsided by the sudden realization that Shin hadn't touched himself either that whole time, just sat there with all that clothing and armor between them even though he's usually the one thirsting to get hands on skin.

So Drifter gives what he got and scrapes fingers over Shin's vest, pushes open the flexible armor and lets Shin feel the pressure of his fingertips through his undershirt, brushes over a nipple and wrings something a little louder out of Shin's throat.

“Touch me,” Shin gasps. “Fuck, _touch me_ –”

Drifter looks up at him and the witty riposte he's prepared dies before it can even hit his tongue. Shin looks thoroughly wrecked already, with a flush settled deep and high in his cheeks, lips parted, eyes fathomless and dark, and he’s staring down at Drifter like he’s the only thing that exists.

“Touch me,” Shin breathes, and Drifter feels like there’s nothing but Arc coursing through his veins.

He shoves a hand up under Shin’s shirt and he gasps again as Drifter gets his mouth right back where he wants it, and then Shin moans like there’s no neighbors and Drifter feels him shiver against his palm, the way all the muscles in his stomach flex erratically as his whole body curls with pleasure. Shin’s hands drag through his hair and then hot fingertips burn their way down the back of Drifter’s robes, pulling the neckline taut against his throat, and if this goes on any longer there’s gonna be a round two, and that’s a sure sign it’ll spiral into something— else.

Drifter licks his way down Shin’s length, working his tongue over the underside of him, hand following the hard line of Shin’s sternum, and Shin’s fingers dig into his shoulders with familiar weight. Shin so very clearly wants more – more hands, more mouth, more _anything_ , but Drifter won't give 'till he hears Shin ask.

“Enough?” Drifter asks smugly against the base of Shin’s cock, pulling his hand away from Shin’s chest, and Shin lets out some wordless noise that might be a creative swear before trapping Drifter’s hand with his own, one layer of fabric separating their skin, Shin's fingers searing through it anyways.

“Never,” Shin pants, body tenser than in any firefight, and Drifter doesn’t think about the weird ache that sets off in his chest, doesn't think about anything at all, really, just takes Shin back in his mouth, and takes, and takes, until Shin’s flinching with sensitivity and the tracks he left on Drifter’s shoulders settle into a low, humming smoulder. 

Shin’s limbs are loose and easy under him and Drifter lets his head come to rest in the crook of Shin's hip, pressing against the taut line of a holster. He smells like hot metal and cold weather. Like warm earth and sweat and sunlight on a winter day and the soft smell of sex. Drifter really hates him, he thinks, pushing up his shirt to give Shin what he'd probably been looking for since the start, and he presses his mouth to Shin’s hip, his stomach, in the loosest approximation of something that could be called a kiss. Shin's fingers twitch where they're cupped loosely around the back of Drifter's neck. Really, truly hates the guy.

“Derelict?” he asks, and he feels Shin’s slight laugh more than he hears it.

“Sure.”

But Shin smooths a hand down the slope of his shoulder and Drifter tucks his forehead back into Shin’s hip, and if they don’t move for a bit, just for a minute— well, it’s not like they’re wasting anyone’s time but their own. 

**Author's Note:**

> posted via mobile, so sorry if there's funky formatting - will fix asap!


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